


Mirabilis

by PixelByPixel



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 3x06 au, F/M, God ships Deckerstar, The Easter Bunnies Fic Challenge, and finds a vessel to help, bullet necklace backstory, curly haired Lucifer ;), intentional wing reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel/pseuds/PixelByPixel
Summary: God regrets some things, but knows that he can't actually tell Lucifer that, so he finds someone to help. (Also, he totally ships Deckerstar.)My prompt wasWho: God JohnsonWhere: place of worshipWhat: the bullet necklaceOptional word: a handwritten letter





	Mirabilis

Mira pushed open the church’s heavy door, still not really sure what she was doing there. She wasn’t a churchgoer, not really. She’d gone when she was little, dragged by a mother whose own faith had arrived not long after Mira herself, but she hadn’t set foot in a house of worship in years.

So what had compelled her to take that package from her shop and bring it to this building, of all places? Sure, she’d gotten a phone call from that guy with the accent, asking her to bring the thing here, but she still didn’t understand why she had done it. She’d hung up the phone, taken the box, and left, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mira made her way into the sanctuary, then hesitated as she saw someone at the front of the church. “Hello?”

The tall man stood before the altar, lifting up his eyes. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass window before him, casting a rainbow on what Mira could see of his face, setting the faded brown of his hair alight.

Mira approved of stained glass. It took the ordinary, the utilitarian, and elevated it to art. But the way the light looked around the guy’s head, almost like a halo, made her want to turn and leave, but also to throw herself at his feet. A tiny voice in her head whispered, _Fear not,_ and, odd as it seemed, it helped.

That Thai food she’d had for lunch had tasted all right, but maybe it had been bad after all. Mira really couldn’t come up with any other explanation for how this man was making her feel.

The man turned, and Mira could feel the warmth of his blue eyes even from the other side of the sanctuary. “Did you bring it?” he asked, the twang of his voice enfolding her like her bunny blanket.

Her _bunny blanket_? What in the world had made her think of that? She’d lost that blanket when she was little, had cried for weeks. Nothing since then had ever felt so safe.

“What?” Mira managed, hating the tremor in her voice.

The man stepped closer and, not even thinking about it, Mira moved to meet him. She felt warm, as if he brought the sunlight with him, but no less bewildered.

“The necklace.” He spoke gently, and while she was still confused, Mira found that she didn’t mind so much.

She fumbled in her purse and pulled out the long, narrow box. “Yeah. Here it is.” She managed to clear the fog of her thoughts enough to ask, “Why did I bring it here?”

The man smiled at her, his expression fond. “Because I asked you to,” he replied, and somehow that made sense. He moved back to the altar, and she trailed behind him. “Put it there,” he directed, and she took the necklace from the box and arranged it on the altar.

The light glinted on the necklace. It had been an unusual request, putting a bullet in a setting with a chain to match. Mira realized, with the small corner of her brain that could still think, that the man who had commissioned it reminded her of the man who stood next to her. Both of them had the same oddly compelling charisma.

“You just wanted me to bring it, and I did?” The man nodded, and Mira asked, her voice small, “But why?”

The man smiled, and Mira couldn’t help but smile in response. “My beautiful child,” he began, but Mira interrupted him.

“Are you trying to pull one over on me?” The man peered at her, obviously confused, and Mira continued, “Beautiful? You’ve got to be kidding me. And I’m definitely not your kid. I mean, my dad took off before I was born, but whoever he was, he definitely didn’t look like you.” She gestured between herself and the man, as if to highlight their differences.

The man replied, his voice full of certainty, “You _are_ beautiful. Ask my - ask the man who will come to get the necklace. He never lies. See what he says.” Mira shrugged, and the man turned back to the necklace. He rested a hand on it, and it… glowed?

 _It must have been a trick of the light_ , Mira decided. Still, she asked, “What did you just do? Why did you want me to bring the necklace here?”

“The man who commissioned the necklace is going to give it to the woman he loves,” the man explained, though he made a face as he added, “Even though he won’t admit how he feels.”

Mira folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, not sure what that has to do with the weird light show that just happened.” She lifted her eyebrows in inquiry.

“It’s to protect her,” the man explained. The bullet is already special. It started Lucifer on his path."

“Wait, so that guy’s name really is Lucifer?” Mira demanded, as the man drew in breath to continue. She had thought the man just hadn’t wanted to give his real name, though she’d been puzzled as to why he’d picked _Lucifer_. But with a name like hers, she wasn’t going to question what someone else chose to be called.

The man hesitated over his answer, his face taking on a look that Mira could only describe as wistful. “It is now, yes.”

Mira reached for the necklace. She paused to give the man a look of inquiry before wondering why in the world she was asking permission to take back her own work. Still, the man nodded, and she asked, “What did his name used to be?”

The man was silent for long enough that Mira wished she hadn’t asked the question, but he finally replied, “It doesn’t matter any more. That name is no longer him.” He smiled, adding, “The necklace will help keep his lady from harm, though she needs to wear it for it to be effective.”

“Can’t you just do that… that _lumos_ thing to her?” Mira asked, as she arranged the necklace in its box once more. Her girlfriend’s kid was obsessed with Harry Potter; Mira had seen the movies more times than she could count, and had listened, stiff with pride, as Marisol had read the books out loud to her and Josefina.

Mira realized that if the light thing was a protection, she maybe should have called it a patronus, but whatever. She knew wizards weren’t real, of course, but if what this guy had done made him feel better about things, and it didn’t hurt anybody else, she wasn’t going to object. “Though she might not like you doing that to her,” she added, thinking of some poor lady getting all freaked out when this guy made her glow. Only the necklace didn’t glow, not really. _Trick of the light_ , she reminded herself.

The man smiled, but shook his head. “It has to be her choice. Free will is very important, especially in this particular situation.”

Mira frowned. “Okay, let’s say that whatever you did really is some sort of protection. If this woman doesn’t know what you did, how does she have the free will to wear it, or not?”

The man smiled down upon her, and Mira realized that she’d seen Josefina smile at Marisol in just that same way, when the little girl had said something particularly clever. “You’re exactly right,” he agreed. “She should know. Well, there are a lot of things she should know,” he mused. “But she wouldn’t believe me, and he’d never forgive me, not that forgiveness is likely anyway. But with me, all things are possible.”

Mira asked, when the man paused for breath, “Are you going to tell her?” After a moment of consideration, he shook his head, and Mira persisted, “How will she know, then?”

The man smiled, and Mira noticed how very blue his eyes were, like the sky on a day so hot that you just gave up on trying to get anything done but instead ate Popsicles until your tongue seemed like it would always be purple. “She’ll know,” he reassured her. “Thank you for your help.”

He turned back to his contemplation of the stained glass, his dismissal obvious, and Mira wasn’t exactly sad to leave his strangeness. “Look in your closet at work,” he called, though he didn’t turn toward her. “The top shelf. And don’t forget to ask my son if he thinks you’re beautiful.”

His _son_? The man looked maybe ten years older than the guy who had commissioned the necklace. There was no _way_ they were father and son. But when Mira turned back to question the man, he was gone.

“What the -” she began, but the church bells chimed, cutting off the rest of her words, and she knew she had to get back to her shop. That Lucifer guy would be there before long to pick up his commission.

* * *

Mira hadn’t intended to do anything about the strange man in the church, but he crept into her thoughts as she made her way back to her shop. She returned the necklace to its place and then turned to open her closet.

Nothing at all looked out of the ordinary, but, no, he’d said the top shelf. She grabbed her step-stool and used it to get high enough to see.

Same old… no. There was something at the very back. She had to stand on tiptoe even on the stool, reaching precariously until her fingers scrabbled at the fabric and pulled it closer.

Later, Mira was glad that she had stepped off the stool before she looked, as she was sure she would have fallen. There it was: her bunny blanket. She ran her fingers along its edge, then lifted it to her nose.

The smell - fabric softener and Cheerios - took her back thirty years to afternoons spent on her grandmother’s couch. That had been when she’d last seen the blanket. How could it just appear like this? Before the incident in the church, she hadn’t thought of it for years.

Clinging to the blanket, as if it might disappear again, she reached for her phone. “Mom? No, everything’s fine.”

Her mother, as it turned out, had come across the blanket the previous week while going through Mira’s grandmother’s things. “I guess she just shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it,” her mother said, her voice fond despite its tinge of sadness. “I brought it by, but you were talking to that British guy. It looked like it would take a while, so I tossed it in your closet. I’m sorry. I must have forgotten about it. I guess I take after Momma that way, huh?”

And of course Mira couldn’t be upset that her mother hadn’t mentioned it. Not when she made that sound, laughter and tears all in one. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’m just glad to have it back. Look, I’ll come by and help tonight, okay?”

“Thank you, baby.”

After she put down her phone, Mira considered the blanket. The man at the church had known about it, somehow, had known what it would mean to Mira to have it back.

 _Wizards aren’t real_ , Mira reminded herself. But if the man had known about her blanket, maybe he really had done something to the necklace. Maybe Mira hadn’t imagined it. She pulled the box closer and took out the necklace, letting it pool in her cupped hand, thinking, _Why a bullet?_

She’d asked Lucifer, and he’d just smiled and said that it was meaningful. It had been delicate work, but Mira thought it would please him. She was content with it. More, it made her happy in a way that her work often didn’t. It felt _right_.

The curve of the setting glinted, and Mira thought about the recipient of the necklace. The way Lucifer had smiled while they planned the necklace, Mira was pretty sure that the man at the church had been right, that Lucifer felt something for this woman, whoever she was.

And if the man at the church was right about that, maybe he _had_ done something to the necklace. Shouldn’t the woman know about it?

And he’d told her where to find her blanket, lost all this time.

“She’ll know,” he’d said.

Would she know because Mira told her? Did the man somehow know that? But Lucifer hadn’t told Mira anything about this woman, let alone provided a way to get in touch with her.

Frowning thoughtfully, Mira pulled out some of her good paper, the kind she used to sketch out a new design, and her favorite pen. Josefina teased her a little over using fancy paper for something somebody might not ever see, but Mira liked the way the pen made contact with the paper, the flow of the ink.

_To the recipient of this necklace,_

_I know you probably won’t believe me, because I’m not really sure that I believe it, myself._

Mira explained what had happened: the odd man who had still somehow seemed just right, the glow of the necklace, the supposed protection spell.

 _I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be protecting you from,_ she concluded, _but I hope you’re okay._

She hesitated over it, but decided not to include that the man thought Lucifer was in love with her, or that he claimed to be Lucifer’s father. The letter was odd enough, after all.

Finally, she signed her name using the elegant script that she had spent months perfecting, and which now graced the lids of all her gift boxes: Mirabilis. It was what her father had called her before he left, or so her mother said. Mira wasn’t entirely sure she believed that. But sometimes parents said what they thought their kids needed to hear, whether it was true or not.

She gave the ink a few minutes to dry, and then folded the letter. It would fit perfectly into the bottom of the gift box, where the necklace’s recipient could find it.

Mira carefully arranged the her creation, then fitted the top to the box before setting it in its place. Lucifer would come for it all too soon.

* * *

 The bell above Mira’s door jingled as Lucifer breezed in, all smiles. “Good evening, Miss Jones. I trust my commission is ready to go?”

“Of course.” Mira replied. She pulled the box from its spot and then arranged the necklace on a velvet display before offering it to the tall man. “What do you think?”

Lucifer looped the necklace over two fingers to pick it up, and Mira was pleased to note the care he took. He cupped the bullet in his palm, the projectile tiny compared to his hand.

Mira allowed herself a small smile, watching Lucifer as he inspected the necklace from every possible angle.

“It’s perfect,” he said, the sudden lightness in his expression making Mira consider the possibility that he was related to the man from the church after all, for all that they didn’t really look alike. “She’ll love it. Well done.”

“Thanks.” Mira continued to study Lucifer, and didn’t look away in time to avoid his gaze.

“You look like you have a question,” he said, his manner inviting her to ask it.

He offered the necklace back to her and Mira turned her attention to making sure it looked just right in the box. “Why come here?” She did look up, then, catching his eyes. It wasn’t the question she’d intended to ask, but she wasn’t quite brave enough for that. Not yet. “I mean, I saw your car. I know how much a suit like that costs. You could go somewhere fancy. You can afford the best.”

Lucifer leaned easily against the counter, and even Mira could see his appeal. “Well, I got the best, didn’t I? I mean, your work is lovely.”

“But you didn’t know that when you came in here,” Mira persisted, though not without a murmur of thanks for the praise.

Lucifer gestured behind him, at the shop entrance. “I liked the name. Mirabilis. I thought I could use something wonderful for my - for the Detective.”

Mira bit back a smile at the amended words. “You speak Latin? Most people don’t get what my name means.”

“I speak everything,” Lucifer replied, with an engaging grin. “I mean, not that anybody really speaks Latin any more, not as a language, but you get the idea.”

Mira tried not to look skeptical, instead asking, “The Detective? She’s the one you’re giving the necklace?”

Lucifer nodded, his expression softening. “It’s for her birthday.”

 _He has it bad_ , Mira decided, amused. And if the man at the church was right about that, maybe he was right about other things as well. “Is it dangerous, what she does?” she ventured. Lucifer nodded, and she asked, “So you give her a necklace with a bullet, what, to protect her?”

“Oh, no, she does a proper job of protecting herself,” Lucifer replied promptly. “Though whenever she needs help…” He would be there. He didn’t even have to say it.; Mira just knew. He grinned, then, his dark eyes glinting with humor. “The bullet has, shall we say, other symbolism.”

Mira nodded. She considered Lucifer, and the openness of his expression made her ask, as the man at the church had recommended, “What do you think of how I look?”

He looked startled, and then almost resigned. “I thought I’d gotten the trick of turning it off,” he murmured. Perhaps seeing Mira’s confusion, he shook his head. “Well, you’re lovely,” he said, with such sincerity that Mira felt tears prick her eyes. “And ordinarily I’d be up for it; what, do you have a room in the back?” With a gesture toward her shop window, he added, “Or maybe exhibitionism is your thing? But I have some errands to do tonight, and lately I haven’t really…” His voice trailed off, his expression gone distant, but then he rallied with, “Maybe a raincheck?”

A tiny, irreverent place in Mira’s brain wondered if he had actual rainchecks, or maybe specialized business cards. If he did this often, how could he keep track? “What? No,” she said. “I wasn’t… I mean, I have a girlfriend.”

“Does she want to come along?” Lucifer asked, with a roguish grin.

Josefina, Mira reflected, could well be into it with a guy who looked like that. But she’d know Mira wasn’t, so she wouldn’t ask. “Maybe. But I meant that I’m in to women,” she explained.

“That doesn’t matter,” Lucifer said cheerfully, though his expression sobered, perhaps at Mira’s grimace. She had, after all, been told too often that she just needed the right man. “Or maybe it does matter, for you. I’m all about what _you_ want, darling, and if it’s not me, well, how do you feel about demonic bounty hunters?”

“What?” And it wasn’t even one of those moments where asking a question triggered comprehension for Mira. She truly couldn’t figure out how the conversation had reached _demonic bounty hunters_.

“Hell’s best torturer,” Lucifer continued, clearly warming up to his subject. “But when she makes you scream, it will be for _all_ the right reasons, trust me. Let me send her a text; won’t take her a minute to get here.”

“Wait, no,” Mira protested, pulling her eyes away from Lucifer’s. “I’m in a relationship.” She shook her head, adding, “How did we even get on that topic?”

With a sigh that didn’t seem entirely unfeigned, Lucifer replied, “It tends to happen to me. Wait, no,” he realized. “You asked what I thought of your looks, which are lovely, by the way.” Brows lifting in inquiry, he said, “That does often lead to other things.”

“Yeah,” Mira agreed. “Sorry. I just…” She considered Lucifer, and decided not to mention the man at the church. She had gotten the impression that there was bad blood between them, and she didn’t want to bring up a sore subject.

Lucifer smiled. “No need to apologize. I do tend to bring that out in people.”

Mira nodded, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah. Uh. Let me just…” She pulled out the bill, and Lucifer paid.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, and there was an appealing openness about his expression that made Mira smile. “You do lovely work, and I have connections. I could make a few introductions, give your business a boost.”

“Let me think about it,” Mira replied. “It’s just me working, and business is okay right now.”

Lucifer nodded. “You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call.” He took the necklace and left, and Mira wondered if the detective would ever see the letter.

* * *

 Chloe opened her eyes, luxuriating in the unaccustomed softness. She hadn’t really thought that fancy sheets were a place she needed to invest her income, but spending time in Lucifer’s bed was making her reconsider that decision.

Well. It was making her reconsider a few decisions, most of which had nothing to do with the thread count of her sheets.

Growing a little more alert, she realized that she was alone in the bed, but the sound of the shower alerted her to Lucifer’s likely location. She ran a hand along his pillow: still warm.

She couldn’t entirely remember everything that had happened the previous night, but the look on Lucifer’s face when she’d asked him to stay with her, that was embedded in her brain. He’d hesitated long enough that she had thought he would refuse, but then his eyes had softened and he had nodded and settled in next to her.

Nothing had happened, though Chloe had woken in the middle of the night to find herself curled against Lucifer in a way that had just felt _right_.

So why had Lucifer gotten up to shower? Was he hoping she’d join him? Chloe let her eyes close as she thought of the possibilities, but even if she would consider having sex with him already - which, she told herself firmly, she was not, _really_ \- the shower seemed like a perilous place for a first time. She’d heard stories of embarrassing ER visits, and she just knew that Lucifer would delight in retelling such a tale.

Chloe got to her feet and dressed, though her hands lingered on Lucifer’s shirt as she set it aside. She didn’t know what alcohol-fueled idea had motivated her to find it and put it on, but it, like cuddling with Lucifer the previous night, had felt right.

She wasn’t sure what that said about herself, but she found that she didn’t much care.

Chloe settled her new necklace on the outside of her shirt, still marveling at Lucifer’s choice. The fact that he had saved the bullet all this time touched her in ways she knew she would never be able to explain. Seeing the box that the necklace must have come in, she picked it up. Of course, the jeweler was probably too expensive for Chloe to visit, but she was curious where Lucifer had gotten the necklace made.

She’d never heard of the place; trust Lucifer to know some niche jeweler who turned ammunition into jewelry. As she set the box aside, Chloe’s attention caught on the box lining, which didn’t seem quite right. Investigating further, she pulled out a piece of paper.

Scanning the letter, Chloe couldn’t believe the story. Who was this man? Should the jeweler be worried about him? Should she? She’d put away enough criminals to be suspicious of odd characters who knew too much. She fumbled for her phone and, after a quick Google search, dialed the shop’s number.

Chloe hadn’t expected anyone to answer, considering the hour and the day of the week, but the call connected. “Hello?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m trying to reach Mirabilis? The jewelry store?”

“Oh, sorry.” The young woman on the other end now spoke more clearly, as if she had gone into business-mode. “This is Mira. How can I help you?”

“My name is Chloe Decker. I think you made a necklace for me. The one with the bullet.”

There was a noticeable pause before Mira replied. “You’re the detective?”

 _Does he refer to me that way to everybody?_ Chloe wondered, though not without some fond amusement. “I am, yeah. Look, the necklace is gorgeous, and I love it, but…”

“You found the letter,” Mira finished. “Look, I know it’s strange. Honestly, this morning I kind of thought that I’d, I don’t know, imagined the whole thing. I mean, it was so weird.”

“I’m sure,” Chloe agreed, adopting that sympathetic tone that sometimes worked when a witness was close to giving information. “This man, what did he look like?”

Mira replied, “Tall. White guy, brown hair. His nose is a little crooked. I think he’s from the south or something, from the way that he talked. And his eyes, they were so blue. It… I know this sounds weird, but being around him made me feel safe, sort of.”

“So you didn’t feel threatened by this man?” Chloe asked.

“No.” Mira responded immediately, and with no hesitation. “He seemed… I don’t know. Not quite real. I know that doesn’t make any sense. I’m sorry.”

“Mira?” Chloe prompted, when it seemed like the other woman had stopped speaking. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Mira said, though she sounded hesitant. “I don’t see how he could be, because he didn’t look old enough, but he said that your boyfriend is his son.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Chloe said automatically, suspicion niggling at the back of her brain. Maybe Earl Johnson was back in town, and off his meds.

There was a quiet sound of disbelief over the phone, but Mira’s reply was only a noncommittal, “Of course not.” Her voice amused, she added, “The way he planned that necklace was _definitely not_ a boyfriend sort of thing to do. Really.”

“The man at the church,” Chloe said, firmly changing the subject before she thought too hard about the implications of the jeweler’s words. “Did he tell you his name?”

“No. And I didn’t ask, not even when he was this random guy on the phone asking me to come to the church.” Mira exhaled a soft sigh. “I still don’t know why I did that.” Chloe heard what sounded like a child speaking to Mira; the other woman said, “Look, I have to go. Do you have any more questions?”

“Just one more. Did this man seem like he might hurt you, or someone else?”

Mira replied, “I don’t think so. I don’t know. I mean, I went to art school. I’m not the right person to ask. But…” Her voice lowered. “He seemed, I don’t know, _good_. I mean, it was kind of in a freaky way, but I wasn’t scared of him.”

“Okay, good. Thanks for talking to me, Mira. Is this number good if I have more questions?” Chloe thought she would, after all, though she had another conversation to have first.

“Yeah. It’s the store number, but it forwards to my cell after hours. You know, just in case someone might have a jewelry emergency.” Her tone held a certain humor, and Chloe chuckled.

“Thanks. Have a good day.” Chloe ended the call, and turned to reread the letter while she waited.

All too soon, Lucifer emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel. His hair, still damp from the shower, curled in a way that Chloe tried very hard not to find appealing.

“Oh, you’re up,” he greeted her, and she turned away as he moved to get dressed.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was her voice higher-pitched? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already seen everything Lucifer had to offer. And, really, he hadn’t even offered it, not lately. The previous night, he’d been a perfect gentleman, somewhat to Chloe’s regret. “Good morning.”

His voice was muffled as he replied, likely by his shirt passing over his head. “I can get some breakfast for us in a moment. Did you see if Daniel and Doctor Linda are still out there?”

Chloe looked over and, yes, he was clothed, his hair even more disheveled by the dark gray Henley he had pulled on to go with his jeans. Apparently it was casual day. “I think I heard them leaving this morning,” Chloe replied. “Hey, but don’t worry about that. Can we talk?”

Lucifer moved to sit next to her, his expression serious. “In my experience, that is never the start of a good conversation.”

Chloe smiled in a way that she meant to be reassuring, but that likely fell a little flat. “So the necklace, I love it,” she said, and that did elicit an answering smile from Lucifer. “It’s beautiful and thoughtful, and I can’t believe that you did it.”

“I hope it makes up for my being gone on your birthday,” Lucifer replied, his dark eyes concerned. “Only Candy was in trouble and I had to help.”

Chloe made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, sure. And that wasn’t a big deal.” Lucifer’s small smile suggested that he knew otherwise, and Chloe chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, maybe I was a _little_ upset. But it’s okay, really.” She reached for the box from Mirabilis, adding, “But the place where you got the necklace, the woman who runs it, is she… okay?” Lucifer nodded, though his look of incomprehension made Chloe clarify, “She just put a letter in the necklace box and… here. Maybe you should read it for yourself.”

Lucifer took the letter, and his expression darkened as he read it. “I can’t believe,” he began. “Well, no, I can.” He looked up to meet Chloe’s curious gaze, then. “The jeweler didn’t mention this to me at all. My apologies.”

“So you know this guy?” Chloe asked. “From the description, he sounded kind of like Earl Johnson.”

“Yes.” Lucifer’s reply was biting, with a little too much sibilance on the S for Chloe’s liking. “It does, doesn’t it?” He offered the letter back to Chloe. “Thank you for telling me about this, Detective. If you give me back the necklace, I’ll have him undo whatever he has done to it.”

Chloe’s hand lifted instinctively to curl around the bullet. “No,” she protested. “I mean, it’s not like he really did anything. She said in the letter that it was just some light. That’s not a big deal, is it?”

“You forget to whom you are speaking,” Lucifer replied, with a thin, brittle smile. “Lucifer. The light-bringer. Light can be a fairly big deal, yes. You like your sun, yes? You’re welcome.”

Chloe shook her head at Lucifer’s eccentricity, even as she wished that she and Trixie hadn’t watched Moana again the previous afternoon. (But who would have thought that The Rock could sing?) “I’m speaking to my partner,” she said, her voice emphatic. “My friend. Lucifer, why has this got you so upset? If it really was Earl Johnson, we can, I don’t know, get him back on his meds.”

Lucifer looked away, and she reached to rest her hand on his. His gaze shifted first to their hands and then back to Chloe’s face, his expression softening, and she felt his fingers tighten around hers.

“Come on,” Chloe urged. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Lucifer exhaled a soft sigh. “I would like to tell you, Detective,” he said, and there was a wistful longing about him that made him seem impossibility ancient.

Chloe nodded, trying to let her expression show her concern and her affection. “I’m listening.”

Lucifer nodded, and he gripped Chloe’s hand a little tighter before releasing it. “There is a… connection between myself and, ah, Mr. Johnson.”

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed, when the silence had stretched too long. “You guys really clicked when you were in the hospital.” She kept her focus on Lucifer, hoping that this time finally, he would tell her whatever it was that had been bothering him.

Lucifer frowned faintly, seeming to struggle with his words. “No, it’s not that. It’s more familial.”

Chloe didn’t smile as she said, “He’s a little young to be your father, though.” Lucifer looked away and Chloe suggested, “Is he your stepfather? Like Charlotte Richards married your dad?”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, a look of relief crossing his face. “The relationship is similar to the one that I have with Charlotte Richards.”

Chloe took a moment to ponder Lucifer’s parents and their apparent tendency to marry much younger people. And then there was that weird date thing that Lucifer had staged between Charlotte and Earl; it made her wonder if the two of them had been seeing each other, maybe after they had broken up with Lucifer’s parents? _That must be some family tree._

Still, she smiled, relieved by the progress they were making. They were talking, which was definitely a step in the right direction. “So he, uh, heard that you were getting me this necklace and wanted to… bless it? Is he religious?”

Lucifer nodded, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “You could say that, yes.” He got to his feet and moved to stand at the window, the sunlight warming his features and getting caught in the riotous tangle of his hair. “My apologies, Detective. He does tend to interfere.”

“Hey, no.” Chloe followed Lucifer and rested a hand on his arm. “I mean, it’s a nice thought, right? The letter said he wanted the necklace to protect me.” She let her hand slide down his arm to take his hand, her voice gently teasing as she added, “And it goes with more outfits than a Kevlar vest does, right?”

That sparked a smile from Lucifer, and he murmured, “Accessorizing is important, yes. But you don’t understand, Detective. My - he’s tried to control my life. I don’t want him to try to manage yours as well.”

Chloe shook her head, with a fond smile, though she did wonder how Earl, not that much older, could control Lucifer’s life. But he had been weirdly affectionate with his stepmother, after all. “When have I ever let some guy dictate my life? Come on, Lucifer; you know I make my own choices.”

Lucifer met her gaze, his dark eyes oddly intense. “Do you, Detective? Do you really?”

Chloe nodded. “Of course,” he said, though didn’t look entirely convinced. “Hey,” she added gently. “Remember Palmetto Street? I knew I was right, and wouldn’t let the guys on the force change my mind.”

Lucifer nodded, his dark eyes uncertain. “But my father…”

“Isn’t going to make me change my mind about anything. Ever.” Chloe wasn’t sure why this was so important to him, but her answer made Lucifer exhale a soft, relieved breath. But then he seemed to steel himself, and Chloe asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Lucifer replied. “Nothing at all. But I need to tell you something, and show you.” He released Chloe’s hand and stepped away from her as she watched in puzzlement. “All those times I told you that I was the Devil, I was telling you the truth.” Chloe drew in a breath to protest, but Lucifer continued, “I didn’t want this to be the way you found out. It’s not me, but it’s the only thing I can show you that will make you believe, and you need to know before you make any more choices. I know you,” he added, with an odd, twisted smile. “You need proof to believe, and it’s time. Past time.”

Chloe nodded, half-expecting Lucifer to end up with another constipated expression, or some goofy explanation, or, really, anything but what happened. Lucifer rolled his shoulders, and his wings appeared.

His wings appeared.

His wings.

He had _wings_.

The feathers, so white that they seemed to glow, brushed against the edges of the room.

Chloe turned over this revelation in her head, trying to fit it into her worldview.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. She swallowed. “Is that what you were trying to do in Ella’s lab?” she managed, thinking, _Wings, holy shit. Oh my God. Wait, no. Can I say that?_

Lucifer shook his head, his expression tentative. “I was trying to show you my Devil face, but my father took it from me.”

Chloe nodded, still trying to find some way for this to make sense, trying to process, but her thoughts blurred into a welter of disbelief, with a touch of profanity thrown in. And… Devil face? What even was that? Horns and a tail?

_Horns?_

Her brain flashed to a certain dream that she’d had, and she let her eyes close for just a moment as she imagined horns peeking out of Lucifer’s curls.

Chloe was suddenly grateful that Trixie was at a sleepover; having to rush home after this, having to cope with homework and lunch and laundry and little-girl chatter seemed unfathomable.

Lucifer did an odd little shoulder-twitch, and his wings vanished.

It became a little easier for Chloe to think with the wings gone. “Good.” Lucifer made a noise of inquiry, and Chloe continued, with a breathless laugh, “If that’s what you were trying to do, it would have trashed Ella’s lab, and how would you explain to our favorite religious lab tech that everything had been destroyed by _angel wings_?” She hesitated, then asked, “ _Are_ they angel wings? Are you an angel? I mean, you keep saying that you’re the Devil, but those wings…”

“Fallen angel,” Lucifer said, looking distant. “I used to be - well. That doesn’t matter any more. And my father put the wings on me, when I was taken to the desert. I certainly don’t want them.”

“Your father,” Chloe echoed, and the running stream of profanity at the back of her head became a little more insistent. “God?”

With a self-deprecating shrug, Lucifer replied, “I usually call him Dad.”

Chloe choked back a laugh. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… _Dad_.” She fumbled to a seat in a nearby chair, bursts of laughter escaping despite her efforts. As Lucifer watched in concern, she took several deep breaths, wiping at her eyes.

“This really wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” he observed, his tone almost chiding.

After one final breath, Chloe asked, “What, you expected me to run away screaming?”

“The thought did cross my mind.” Lucifer shrugged, and Chloe half-expected the wings to return. She wondered how much control he had over them. Then she caught sight of Lucifer’s guarded expression and crossed to stand next to him.

“Hey, no, Lucifer. I mean, I’m kind of freaking out a little, but I’m not scared. Not of you.” Chloe offered her hand, rather than taking his, and his eyes softened, his expression full of wonder.

“Detective,” he breathed. He took her hand, and as she felt the way his fingers shook, she realized how scared he must be.

She stepped closer and stood on tiptoe as she hugged him with her free arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Lucifer, it’s okay.”

A tremor went through Lucifer and, with a shuddering inhalation, he hugged her close. “Thank you,” he whispered, and she knew he meant it for more than just her words.

“You’re welcome,” Chloe replied, and she meant it.

* * *

 Mira looked up as the tall man came through the door to her shop. She braced herself, for all that he was smiling. She’d expected him months ago. “Mr. Morningstar, hi.”

“Lucifer, please,” he urged as he made his way to the counter. His hair was different; she hadn’t realized it was curly. It suited him. And his easy smile and the spring in his step made him look younger.

“Lucifer,” she agreed. “How are you? Did your detective like her necklace?”

His answering nod was amiable enough. “Interesting bit of literature you left in the box, though.”

Mira regarded him levelly for a moment, then nodded. “He said that she’d find out what he did,” she replied. “But he didn’t say _how_. And just in case he was some creeper, I thought she should know. I mean, I didn’t really think he was, but…” Mira’s words came to an uncertain halt.

“It didn’t occur to you to tell _me_?” Lucifer’s tone was still mild, but there was a glint to his eyes that Mira found just a little unsettling. Had they turned red? Or was it more of a golden color?

Watching him carefully, Mira said, “He acted like you two didn’t get along.” She noted his grimace and offered, “He seemed sad about whatever happened between you and him.”

“As he should be,” Lucifer replied, his voice sharp and suddenly too loud for the small shop. Perhaps he noted Mira trying not to flinch, for he gentled his voice as he said, “Your intentions were good, though.”

Mira offered a small smile. “Well, you know what they say about the road to Hell.”

“Oh, bollocks,” Lucifer replied, with a laugh that also filled the shop, but much more kindly than his earlier shout had. “Good intentions don’t have anything to do with Hell. Well, most of the time they don’t. There are always exceptions.”

There really wasn’t anything Mira could say in response to that. Instead, she asked brightly, “What brings you back? A matching bracelet? Maybe something in a hand grenade?”

Lucifer leaned lightly against the counter. “Funny you should ask that,” he replied. “I’m here for a ring.” His tone made it clear just what sort of ring he meant.

“For your detective?” Mira asked, with a knowing look. She’d been certain there was something between them.

Lucifer nodded, his expression softening. “It has to be perfect.”

Mira smiled. “It will be.”

And it was.


End file.
